Never Turn Back
by Katherine Houghton Beckett
Summary: Neal Caffrey's life had been carefully laid out. His career path was simple and defined: rise to the top and lock away the bad guys. He'd meet a good girl and fall in love. He hadn't planned to fall for the one person he was supposed to catch. AU N/S.


Author's Note - It's been a long time since I've posted anything here, and I wanted to thank the people who have encouraged me not to give up on my writing. And a special thank you to lstuds for beta-reading this for me.

Summary - For Neal Caffrey everything in his life had been carefully laid out. His career path was simple and defined: rise to the top and lock away the bad guys. He'd meet a good girl, fall in love, and settle down. He hadn't planned on falling for the one person he was supposed to be intent on catching. AU Neal/Sara.

**Never Turn Back**

Chapter One – Through Glass

January 12, 2010

The day is slipping under the hood of darkness, and FBI agent Neal Caffrey drives along the windingly treacherous roads of Litchfield Hills. The flurries of white flakes fall from a blackened sky. Neal navigates down rural grounds, heading towards the abandoned red farmhouse. Northeastern Connecticut is a place he's talked about visiting, but has never seen until now. He catches a sideways glimpse of the homestead's derelict sign; once a flourishing horse farm, the building is now neglected and long forgotten.

Neal grips the steering wheel a little tighter in his hands. His nerves rarely get the better of him. He inhales a deep breath, trying to keep his mind clear and determined. Neal has always been the cool-headed agent, and he needs to be that person tonight. He needs to focus on the task at hand.

In most respects, Neal Caffrey is more than just your average thirty-three-year-old man. And that isn't necessarily arrogance on his part, but rather a statement of fact.

From humble beginnings, he grew up with a struggling mother who loved him, and a father who barely noticed him. He excelled through school; bored and barely trying in his classes, he still stood out from the throngs of his peers. Neal was incredibly intelligent and gifted, but felt unchallenged.

Neal was handpicked by the FBI, before he had truly regretted not having the opportunity to apply for college. He'd gleefully accepted the scouting headhunter's offer. He had quickly moved forward to a more promising and rewarding lifestyle. He'd shone with promise amongst the rookies at the training academy. And, today, he excels in his job, becoming the very best the bureau has to offer.

He feels his brow crease against the troubled thoughts fluttering through his mind. He turns the car down the dirt path.

Everything in his life has been carefully and meticulously laid out. His career path is simple and defined. He is going to do well in his career and rise to the top. He is fully determined to better every mastermind and white-collar criminal he comes across and lock them away.

His personal life is trickier, and it always has been. Neal is, as most women would put it, incredibly handsome and impossible not to fall for. He is a charmer, with his beautiful blue eyes burning with intensity, and his perfectly white smile. He dresses impeccably and works hard to keep in shape. He goes to the gym, swimming laps every evening after his work is done at the office.

Neal doesn't date much. He's always the first to say his job doesn't allow him a lot of time for a social life. And it is true for the most part; he puts in the hours and he works hard. He has only had one serious girlfriend, and that ended tragically many years ago. Since then, he's played the field. He goes through the motions of dating, but never allows himself to get close to someone. He knows that things can end very badly. He is no stranger to the pain and devastation of heartache.

However, deep down, Neal is still a romantic. He sees the happiness his partner Peter Burke and wife, Elizabeth, share. And Neal wants that too. He still hopes to meet a good girl, fall in love, and settle down someday. What he'd never envisioned was falling for the one person he was supposed to be intent on catching and locking away.

With the farmhouse less than a hundred yards ahead, he glances at the rearview mirror. Neal inhales a shallow breath and stares into his reflection. He knows exactly why he's here. He knows what is at stake. He reminds himself that this is just like any other case. He's experienced; he's done this many times before. Tonight is not exception, despite what the doubt and the emotions coursing through his core tell him.

Turning his attentions back to the land stretched before him, Neal sees the black Land Rover. It is parked in front of the building. He brings his own vehicle gradually, and quietly, to a stop beside it. There is no one else around for miles and he's likely to have already given away his presence. He turns off the ignition, pocketing his keys, and climbs out of the car.

There are no lights on; the house has remained dark out since he turned into the pathway. He wonders if she's already made a bid for escape; whether she had another mode of transport waiting for her, and she's already managed to slip away from him once again. She's always been canny enough to have a secondary plan of action in the back of her mind.

He pulls his coat tighter around his body, blocking out the circulating wintry air, before he makes his way up to the building. There isn't a single sound aside from squalling winds and the crunch of light snow beneath his feet.

Neal peers through the frosted glass of the house's unlit windows for any sign of her. He doesn't see anything other than empty rooms bathed in slivers of silver moonlight. He turns away and treads carefully around to the back of the building. His gun is nestled in the depths of his holster and he silently hopes he won't have cause to use it. He moves to the backyard; it is there that he finds her.

Sara Ellis, not even thirty, is one of the most prolific con artists he has come across in his line of duty. An expert thief and forger, she has evaded capture for the past three years, in spite of Neal's, and the Bureau's, best efforts. But tonight it looks as though their game of cat and mouse is finally ending.

She stands alone. Her back is towards him. She's dressed in black clothes, her red hair cascading in curls down her back. Her head is fixed on the sight in front of her. The impressive oak tree towers above her, its branches twisting and stretching up into the night sky. Neal looks up to find the tree house nestled in the old oak's heart.

"I should have known you'd find me, Caffrey." Sara speaks, she doesn't turn around, but her frame is poised and alert.

Neal takes in a breath of cold, bitter air. He would always find her. He knows her.

He's studied her crimes and exploits for years. He has spent countless hours hunched over his desk, after the working day has drawn to its close, scanning over her files and studying her forged works. He became somewhat of an expert, as he and his colleagues worked to catch her. But it isn't the information gathered by the Bureau that ultimately brought him to the abandoned farm.

What brought Neal to the depths of rural Connecticut were not the pages illustrating her deeds and cons, but the secrets and tales spoken from her own lips so many years ago. Ironically it is the whispers traded between lovers that have helped him catch her.

"I know you, Sara," he tells her simply.

At those words, Sara turns to face him. Her beautiful features betray her breaking sadness. She keeps her arms folded securely at her chest; her expression is fixed and solemn.

"And you're here to arrest me?"

Neal tries to ignore her tone, that's frostier than the winter wind. Instead, he looks to the white roses lying at the base of the tree. They lie in a bed of glittering snow. Sara has come here to pay her respects, in an attempt to gain some sort of closure. She couldn't visit the graveyard back in New York City; the agents out for her arrest would have caught her all too easily.

"I'm sorry," he offers gently. He feels for her. He understands what she must be going through.

"Me too." Her glance flutters down to the ground.

"Are you okay?" He takes a step forward, closing the distance between them.

"Me?" Sara shrugs her shoulders. She holds her mask of strength and detachment in place. "I'm okay. I'm fine."

Neal bobs his head in silent acknowledgment. He knows she isn't; she can't be. She's told him in the past that she doesn't need anybody; that she doesn't rely on anyone. She's told him with cold conviction that this is the life she's chosen. But he doesn't buy it. He thinks, or at least he hopes, he knows her better than that.

"Why did you come here, Neal?" Sara looks him straight in the eyes while she asks the question. He shouldn't be here when there are warrants out for her arrest.

"She was your sister, Sara." Neal speaks quietly, delicately, and he watches Sara's gaze trail back to the roses lying on the white ground. His eyes remain focused on her. Her red lips twitch as she tries not to shatter. He came for her; there is no question in his mind about that. Sara looks exhausted and more broken than he's ever seen her.

"You shouldn't have come." Sara shakes her head in a firm, decisive manner but her voice trembles. It wilts, trailing away into the darkness, before she starts to cry.

"Sara." He instinctively moves forward and gathers her up.

"I'm fine." Sara's body tenses in reaction to his embrace.

"It's okay." Neal's all too familiar with grief. He believes that it is better for her to give in; to let it out.

"I'll be fine," Sara protests with all the stubbornness she can muster. She tries to free herself from his grasp. Neal doesn't let her go; instead he pulls her closer, holding her in his arms.

Lying is something Sara does effortlessly. This woman has perfected the art of deceit over the years. She is the mistress of trickery. She's managed to fool him, _almost _completely, once. His feelings had clouded his judgment. Through time and experience he has learned better than to readily believe every word that slips off her slick tongue. He's had to for his own self-preservation. But she still sells her lies so well. And sometimes he believes her, or at least he wants to.

"I never got to make things right," Sara whispers. "I never got the chance to tell her I was sorry."

"Shh, she knew, she knew." He rubs her tense, tight shoulders in an attempt to soothe her. He understands the hollow emptiness she must be feeling now; to lose someone and to wish that you could have done more. To wonder if there was anything in the world you could have done to stop it. He's all too familiar with the pain of regret, and the desolation of guilt.

"It's my fault." She allows herself to give. She buries her face against his woolen coat, and she cries hot, bitter tears.

"It wasn't your fault," he tells her honestly. "Bad things happen."

Neal stands in the falling snow, consoling his ex lover, and, for a moment, things between them seem that clear and that simple.

They aren't, of course they aren't, and Neal is aware this wouldn't last. It _couldn't last_. Sara would cry away some of the pain while he stroked her hair and whispered his words of comfort. Then she'd dry her eyes and go on as before. She'd become colder and more detached than ever because there is no one left for her. And Neal; he would need to become hardened enough to carry out his duty. To capture and arrest the criminal he'd been chasing for the best part of three years. That was the way it had to be.

Sara feels his hand stroking over her shoulders. He's holding her close, his arms strong and comforting around her. Tears gradually stop falling; drying against her cheeks and Neal's coat. The shaking within her ceases and she relaxes against him. She's never felt safer than when she is with him.

Neal Caffrey is a man of his word; he believes in his ideals and values. He sticks to them. He will do everything in his power to protect those he cares for. He cared for her too once. Throughout her entire life, he has become the only person she can rely on and trust.

She misses that. She misses him, and the safety and simplicity that being with him brings. She'd vowed a long time ago not to want or need anyone but Neal changed that. She thinks about him more than she cares to admit. And she does sometimes wish things could be as happy and effortless again. But they can't. She's made too many mistakes and crossed too many lines to come back from that.

It's then that she breaks apart from him; while her hurt and despair is numbed temporarily, and she has enough strength to do so.

Neal's eyes lock with hers as she pulls away, and he smiles gently.

"I was thinking Tuscany." Sara dabs at her damp lashes, offering a tiny, hopeful smile as she speaks. "Maybe a villa somewhere in the heart of the mountains. Not another person around for miles."

"I hear Tuscany's beautiful this time of year."

"Yeah." She smiles and her green eyes twinkle. "You could come with me…?" It's not really a question. He can't give it all up for her, and she knows that. He can't give up his life, his career, and all his ties to the world he lives in. She's never dared ask him to. She doesn't think she'll get the answer she wants.

"Sara…." Neal turns away from her gaze and inhales a sharp, cold breath. What separates them, what makes them different, is so fragile and almost intangible. He holds a set of values and ideals that he could so easily abandon for her, and for the promise of togetherness.

Sometimes he wants to be selfish. He wishes he were fortunate to have the luxury of acting upon want and desire; to give in and try to be happy. With Sara, and her pretty and promising smile, it is all so tempting to get caught up in the possibility of _maybe_. To believe that it really is that simple. Sara's sought after whatever she wants. She's tried to teach him to do the same. And yet obligation and duty has held him back.

The buzzing sound of approaching traffic stirs his wandering thoughts back to reality. They have company and he knows what's coming.

Sara plunges her hands into the depths of her pockets. "They're coming aren't they?"

Neal nods.

"I can't let you go, Sara."

"I know." Sara bobs her head, uttering a tiny sigh. She sees the cars' headlights glittering between the dark, dense cluster of trees. She never expected Neal would have come alone. That would have meant crossing _the line_ that he's never been able to cross.

"How many?"

Sara broaches the question, and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that she is attempting to weigh her chances. Her stance changes; her body's movements becoming almost catlike. And he slips, almost unconsciously, into an instant state of readiness. She's always kept him on his toes. And, while any bid for escape may seem impossible, he's learned never to underestimate her.

"All of them," he answers simply. He glances back towards the dirt path. He sees the headlights approaching from the bleak distance. He knows Peter will have brought in every agent he could get. His partner won't leave it to chance that she can escape this time.

"Are we really doing this again?" There is a trace of humor in her voice, and it's laced with irony. For so long it's been her, the wanted criminal, and him, the law-abiding and uncompromising agent trying to catch her.

"I guess so." He watches Sara offer the ghost of a grin at his reply.

"We are who we are." She speaks the very same words traded between them so often. The simple statement means everything; it is what has, and always will, keep them apart.

"Yeah."

The vehicles grow ever and Neal watches her. The headlights shine through the deserted farmhouse and glitter against the snow covered grounds. He wonders if she'll try to run again, while she still has a fraction of chance.

He remembers Peter's reservations of letting Neal go on ahead. His friend and mentor has always worried and harbored concern that Neal's judgment is clouded by the beautiful, young con woman. And perhaps Peter is right. Neal does let the thought enter his mind that if she did try to escape, he may not find it in himself to stop her. For him, though things have always been complicated, life is far more interesting with Sara in it.

"I could try and cut you a deal," Neal offers. He hears the cars pulling up and the sound of closing doors. The voices of his colleagues and their footsteps tingle at his ears.

"I think it's a bit late for that."

"FBI!" The familiar, firm tone of Agent Diana Barrigan penetrates through the mass of approaching officials.

Neal spots Peter following at the flank of the group. Peter's line of sight flickers towards his partner. The older man's expression is set and tight.

The armed agents reach Neal and Sara. Their guns pointed and their eyes fixed on their target.

"Hands on your head," Diana calls out the instruction, "slowly."

Sara raises her hands behind her head. Her sight never leaves Neal. Not even as the cold metal of standard issued restraints encase her left wrist.

"Ms. Ellis, you are under arrest," Peter informs her while Diana cuffs Sara's hands behind her back.

It is all Neal can do to stand there and watch. And Peter Burke, the forty-nine-year-old agent who has dedicated every fiber of himself to the investigation, looks about as pensive as Neal feels. Though they've both been on the trail of this particular white-collar criminal for years, their victory seems somewhat bitter sweet.

"I always knew having you in my life would be trouble." Sara directs her quip at Neal.

"Likewise," Neal admits. She smiles her shining, white smile at his answer.

"Take care of yourself, Caffrey," Sara says in a quieter tone.

"Goodbye, Sara." Neal watches as Diana escorts her away to the cars. The other agents follow close behind; all except for Peter Burke.

"Are you okay?" Peter comes to stand at Neal's side. The older man's face holds nothing but concern and compassion for his partner and best friend.

"I did what I had to do." Neal knows he has to be okay. He has to move past her in order to do his job. "It just doesn't get any easier."

"I know. If you need anything…," Peter adds with a meaningful look. He may not approve of Neal's lingering feelings for Sara Ellis, but he knows his partner. He understands, given their history, how hard it has been on the younger man to work the case and bring Sara in for arrest.

"Thank you, Peter. For everything." Peter has always had his back, but it must have taken a small leap of faith to let Neal go on ahead to say a quiet goodbye and gain some form of closure with Sara.

"You're welcome," Peter says with a nod of his head and offers a gentle smile. "Do you want a ride back to the city?"

"No…, I'll meet you there?"

"Okay, I'll see you back at the office." Peter pats Neal's shoulder before he walks away.

"Yeah." Neal is grateful to have some time alone to come to terms with what has just happened. And as Peter heads back to the cluster of departing vehicles, Neal crouches down to pay his respects to Cynthia Ellis.

He watches as more snow falls from the sky. The thick, cold flakes land on delicate rose petals. He looks up to the tree house and remembers the late night tales of a childhood lost. Curled up with Sara in his darkened apartment in Brooklyn, Neal remembers listening to her stories of growing up. Sara and her sister had played here for hours, without a care in the world.

He would have promised Sara a lifetime. Now he couldn't promise her anything; at all. It is a sad and lonely existence in so many ways.

To be continued….


End file.
